Deeds to be done
by Nile Black
Summary: Darquesse is coming. Everyone knows that now. Everyone knows who she is. And there are certain actions that have to be... put into order. And due to a twist of good luck and sheer malevolence, they might just succeed.
1. Hanging Around

Solomon Wreath had no intent on dying that day. In fact, his intensions were the exact opposite. After all, it was such a beautiful day- the clouds were grey smears on the equally grey sky and the rain had forced all sensible people indoors. But, Solomon didn't feel sensible today; so he went for a walk. Without an umbrella: which he soon realised was a very bad mistake, especially wearing the coat that he did.

America wasn't really known for its beautiful forests, unless it was hunting season, but Solomon found a peace amongst those trees that others seldom experienced. He'd never really minded being on his own; actually, he'd often thought of himself as a lone wolf, roaming through life with careful paws and a powerful bite. Of course, since Valkyrie Cain had gone mildly….. insane, Solomon had been treading more cautiously than ever- it was common knowledge that Valkyrie Cain and Darquesse had always been one the same.

He almost felt sorry for her- trapped inside her own mind by an imposter- however, that was not the case for the skeleton detective. Solomon was rather hoping Pleasant was in pain; after all, it was probably his fault Valkyrie was a monster.

Birds didn't sing in the part of the woods he was going to. There, mists clung to the black, icy lake and the only thing that ever hung around were the people whom had jumped from a leafless tree with a rope around their necks. It gave the place a sense of finality- and made Solomon truly appreciate the inability to evade death. He just never expected to find himself dangling from a branch.

Then again, he'd never thought much of his own death at all. It was something most necromancers tried to avoid; after all, death could give you immense power, or take away everything you ever had. If he had to go in any way, he had always wanted to join the stream in battle. If he'd been a true warrior though, Solomon would have heard the sword being drawn from its scabbard at Tanith's hip.

"I had trouble finding you, Mister Wreath." Tanith smiled sweetly as he whipped around to see her loosely playing with the sword in her hand. "I don't want any difficulties, Miss Low." Solomon discreetly swallowed a lump forming in his throat, fumbling for the cane hitched on his belt to no avail. The knot was too tight. "I trust you had a good trip over from Ireland?" She shrugged, her muscled body tensing and relaxing in one languid movement- like a cat- no. A snake; all coils and venom, ready to strike at any moment.

Tanith straightened out her waistcoat. "I don't particular enjoy flights in which the American sanctuary sends agents to kill me. Of course, they failed." The smile she gave Solomon this time was laced with serpentine charm. Going in for the first blow. "I'm sorry to hear that," He didn't mention, however, what part he was sorry about "You know, I've lived quite a nice life until now. Tranquil. Uneventful. Simplistic. I was enjoying it- so perhaps if you could just leave… I'd consider it a personal favour."

She honestly seemed to think about his offer, but only for a brief minute. "I'm afraid I can't do that," Tanith shook her head sadly, circling him "you see, when Darquesse comes- and she will- she has to be isolated. No friends to bring Valkyrie back. The only solution to that problem is to, well, get rid of her little buddies."

Somehow, Solomon got his shaking legs to move, and soon he was running. He couldn't beat Tanith, but he also knew that fleeing wouldn't work either. Only he realised that last part a bit too late, because Billy- Ray Sanguine had stuck his hands out from the ground and clawed at Wreath's legs, trapping him. Tanith approached him. "I hope you understand, Solomon. It'd really be helpful if you could just die now….. I'd consider it a personal favour." The sword pierced his heart a little to the left of the aorta. Blood, hot and crimson, spurted from his chest and he knew he wasn't going to last long.

Tanith Low smiled as the light left Solomon's eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Wreath's body had been found hanging from a tree.

Not a nice way to go. But then again, Clarabelle had never really thought about death. Working with doctor Nye meant it was one of those subjects that were brought up so often, it had really become second nature just to ignore it. Although, being in sanctuary's morgue- like she was now- always sent a little chill up Clarabelle's spine.

It wouldn't have been so bad, except she could feel the emptiness of the bodies, hidden behind the steel doors. Ghastly was in one of them; the tiny, lifeless cells for the dead. He'd been funny looking, but he'd never been rude to her. And he'd made clothes- how cool was that?! She couldn't help loving the designs Ghastly had created. Mind you, she liked her new welly boots more. They were bright red and, naturally, Clarabelle wore them everywhere- even though Doctor Nye said she looked like an idiot.

She wrenched off the blue latex gloves, speckled with bits of the scarlet remains of Solomon Wreath's brain. Nye had told Clarabelle, if she didn't know how to dissect a brain (which she didn't) it was happy to show her. She'd politely refused, telling it that she was happy enough already just poking the pink squishy stuff with a spoon. The spoon poking had been rather successful up until a few moments ago when she'd accidentally scooped out a chunk of brain with it. Clarabelle hadn't been too sure what to do, so she'd discreetly popped it into a small plastic bag. Which she'd then put into the cavity in Solomon's chest. She hoped he didn't mind too much.

Humming tunefully to herself, Clarabelle carefully tugged off her lab coat, making sure it was hung up with care before- _bang. Bang. Bang. _The sound of creaking metal made her heart freeze. Stiffly, she turned around, her blood singing in her ears and stopped dead midway. One of the doors to the little body cells was being forced open. From the inside. The harsh lights above her head started to flicker, ever second in the darkness allowing cracks in the door to appear and grow.

"Clarabelle…" The grating voice of a breathless corpse echoed in the blackening room. Her whole body started to shake. She couldn't move, fixed to the hard floor, staring at the steel being battered. _Run. _Painstakingly slowly, she put one leg behind her and then the other. _Run! _The instinct was louder this time, body responding faster now. _Left, right, left, right, left, right. Go to the door on the left. _"Clarabelle….." That voice- was it getting closer? No, she was sure she'd left it behind in the morgue. Unless…. What if…. What if the door had opened? _Go. Quickly. Up those stairs. Hurry hurry hurry. _

Shadows jumped on the walls as she hurdled up the stairs to the infirmary. Her black wispy wall-self was bounding up alongside her, turning when she turned, tripping when her tripped. And stood stand when she did as the second set of footsteps, heavy and lugging, started to thud up the staircase after her. _Keep going. Move. You're at the landing now. Turn left. Go. Hurry hurry hurry. _

Nearly there. Nearly at the infirmary door. She could call for help- maybe Skulduggery or Nye or somebody good at fighting monsters. "Clarabelle….." Whatever it was, it was getting too close for comfort and was moving much too quickly for someone dead. _Right, you've reached the door. You need to unlock it. It's in the pocket of your lab coat. _Clarabelle reached down into the pocket of her lab coat and then she remembered. She wasn't wearing her lab coat because her lab coat was back in the morgue, with her keys in the pocket, hung on the coat hook. _You're trapped. There's no way out. _"Clarabelle." The voice was loud and clear now…It was also female. Oh, god what could she do? She was trapped, no escape and the thing was behind her. _Give up. Run. Hide. Scream. _Her mind was listing off dozens of ways to flee, but none of them would work. Gulping as silently as she could, Clarabelle turned to face the corpse to find it holding a long, sharp sword, white teeth flashing in a twisted smile and dangling a set of keys with a Badger key ring. _My keys. _"Clarabelle," grinned the undead monster "You forgot your keys."


End file.
